Free Trigger: An Alpha Bad Boy MMA Romance by Simone Scarlet MMA

three goons had been, they were inside.
    “Yo, I need to see ID.”
    The bouncer at the bottom of the stairs didn’t even give us a once-over as he scanned our driver’s licenses and stepped out of the way. A moment later, Roxy and I were climbing the creaking wooden steps into the bar.
    Through the door, the air was thick with cigar smoke. The place lived up to the name of Ol’ Smokey’s.
    The band was hammering through Smoke on the Water now, and a crowd of bikers and sketchy characters were sprawled out at the wooden tables circling the makeshift stage.
    The bar was packed with more bikers and scary-looking dudes – but I wasn’t exactly un-intimidating myself. People got out of my way as I led Roxy through the crowd, and shouldered our way up to the bar.
    “Whaddya want?” a surly looking bartender snapped at me.
    “I’m looking for somebody,” I replied, yelling over the sound of the bar. “A guy called Red?”
    The bartender paused, and cocked his head on one side. Then, as if he’d listened to my question, and instantly dismissed it, he demanded, “Nah. Whaddya want to drink ?”
    I glanced over at Roxy uncertainly, and she shrugged. I guess we’d have to find this ‘Red’ character on our own.
    “Two Coronas,” I snapped, and handed over my final twenty-dollar bill to the bartender. A moment later, Roxy and I were escaping the crush of the bar, ice-cold bottles in our hands.
    “So?” Roxy demanded, breathing hotly into my ear over the sound of the music. “Where do we start?”
    But I didn’t reply. I was looking back over at the bar – to where the bartender was standing.
    He was talking to one of the black-suited dudes, and pointing in our direction.
    He clearly hadn’t ignored the question – he just wanted to make sure that it was Red who found us , not the other way around.

Chapter Twenty
     
    Roxy
     
    “Yo!” The burly bouncer loomed over even Travis, as he crossed the crowded bar to find us. “I heard you’re lookin’ for Red, right?”
    Travis and I turned to look at this stranger as he approached.
    He was fat, but tall. Sunburned skin and a shaved head made him look kind of pig-like; but I still wouldn’t have liked to have gotten the wrong side of him.
    “Yeah,” Travis sipped his beer, and barked at the new arrival. “That’s right. We’re looking Red Callahan.”
    The hog-like bouncer snorted, showing off his crooked teeth.
    “Well, you’re in luck, hoss. He found you .”
    With a jerk of his head, the bouncer indicated that we should follow him. I reached over to curl my fingers around Travis’ hand, and followed him through the crowd.
    The bouncer led us past the band, to a corner of the bar with a raised dais, overlooking all the action. It was blocked off by a red rope, and instead of the wooden tables and chairs, there were ratty leather sofas and coffee tables behind the barrier.
    Sitting on the sofa, sprawled with his cowboy boots on the coffee table, was somebody I instantly guessed was ‘Red’.
    He was a burly looking dude in a cowboy hat and Brooks & Dunn t-shirt, with a bushy red beard and beads and jewelry hanging around his bullish neck.
    Sitting either side of him on the couch were two skinny girls in tank-tops and daisy dukes. They looked bored – and, if I was honest, kind of strung out. I’d gone to school with their types – they’d been hot little pieces of ass at 16, but were worn thin by the time they hit their mid-twenties; and had to resort to liaising with sleazebags like this ‘Red’ character.
    The bouncer pulled back the rope, and welcomed us into this unofficial ‘VIP section.’ As Travis stepped up, the guy on the couch shouldered the two girls aside and hauled himself upright – offering his hand, and flashing a crooked grin.
    “Well, as I live and breathe,” the redhead grinned. “If it ain’t the prodigal son. Travis Oates, home at last.”
    Travis loomed menacingly over the bushy-bearded redhead, but the cowboy